The Afterworlder Affair
by Ivylore
Summary: Some missions are harder than others.   Pre-ESB.
1. Chapter 1

"I can't believe I said yes to this."

Han Solo was sprawled like an overgrown space slug in the captain's chair of the _Millennium Falcon_. Ahead of him loomed an ocean-mottled abomination of a planet. Or not a planet. A waterworld.

"If I'd had any idea how ugly it was," he muttered, "I would've raised my fee."

Chewbacca growled in agreement. Twice.

A grim sensation, not unlike disgust and pity melded together, arched up and down Leia's spinal column vertebrae by vertebrae. It was certainly the last place she expected to find an old friend of Bail Organa's. Centuries ago, Lunera had been the technological epicentre of the Luna System. Now it was a planet in ruins, land gone, glaciers melted, oceans spread across and over the cancerous remnants of great cities. She didn't immediately argue, although after a second's consideration, she did ask, "Since when did being ugly have anything to do with it?"

"Ugly? Sister, if you haven't noticed, this ship is made of metal and plating. She _doesn't _get along with sodium-rich water, sea mynocks and slimy things that eat trimantium hulls and fluidics cables for breakfast. And that's all on a good day," he added pointedly.

"Keep a record of any repairs."

"I will." Han scratched his head. "What's our contact's name again?"

"Roan a'Penaru."

"Did I mention he sounds like a boring old geezer with long flowing white hair…"

"He isn't."

"I'll believe it when I meet him."

"He's not that old." Leia raised her voice. "In fact, he's not that much older than you."

"Huh." His expression was such that she might have just informed him that the mighty Tatooinian dewbacks were herbivores. "Let me guess. He's royalty and you two were formerly engaged."

"Nothing of the sort."

"But you were involved."

She had difficulty answering him. Finally she said, "Almost."

"Almost?" Han twisted his torso in a long exaggerated stretch. "Let's see… He made a pass at you and was banished from the Organa estate forever-after with his testicles barely attached."

A small smile tugged at the corner of Leia's mouth, but she promptly caught her lip between her teeth as though sharing the intimate tidbit of her previous life had been a profound lapse in judgment. Displaying an exaggerated air of nonchalance, she leaned over his shoulder to check their current status. "It was years ago. Besides, after I was elected to the Senate, he was dispatched from Alderaan to head up the national corporation on Excarga."

"And now?" Han prompted. The Empire had nearly obliterated Excarga's ore-processing mines eight standard months ago.

"Until recently he's been instrumental in organizing supply runs from Excarga to the underground. Now…he's… um… the regional organizer for an unofficial Special Forces division."

"On this dump?" Han tossed Chewie his pilot's headset. "Let me know when traffic control picks up our signal." He leaned further back in his chair and regarded the _Falcon's_ only female passenger with renewed interest. "Don't take this the wrong way but I was under the impression that they usually sent _real _Intelligence people on these romps?"

Leia's face was suddenly remarkable, if only for its lack of expression. "We've carried information for Intelligence before."

Han clarified; "Never had anything to do with Special Forces."

"In that case rest assured that I am a _real_ person."

The Wookiee began twirling the audio equipment with the tip of a massive leathery index finger and listening intently to Leia.

"I didn't mean 'real' in that sense." Han wiggled his fingers through mid-air. "I already ruled out hidden holoprojectors. And Princess, you're almost as bad as Gruesome over here with the amount of hair you leave everywhere."

"Oh, aren't you clever." Leia was duly unimpressed. "As a matter of fact you just might pass the Alliance Special Intelligence Exam on your second try."

"Second try?"

"Or third." She stooped slightly and narrowed her eyes. "Ultimately you'd fail the 'commitment' part of the questionnaire."

Chewbacca began hooting and waving the headset at both of them and the timing couldn't have been better.

It wasn't a good time to argue. Lately, she didn't know if she was interminably angry with Han for not caring enough about the Alliance to stay, or with herself for the underlying meaning of such private frustrations, the source of which she was loath to analyze. Luke Skywalker had said recently, in the midst of a long conversation inspired by a divisive comment she couldn't recall, that she was the type of woman who needed proof of emotion to be demonstrated with devotion to her cause. She hadn't figured out what he meant by that yet.

Han shrugged indifferently in a way that infuriated her and picked up the headset. "Everyone strap in tight. It's time to see what this baby looks like up close."

Moments later, after dealing with Lunera's traffic control, Chewbacca hooted a question.

"You'd have to ask _her_ that."

"Ask me what?"Leia asked.

"You don't want to know."

"Why?"

"You might find it offensive."

"_He_ can't possibly offend me."The edge to her voice betrayed her annoyance.

"Fine. He's just curious about the age of consent on Alderaan. He thinks he heard it was twelve or something like that."

Leia pressed her lips together in a flat, thin line, unimpressed. "Seventeen."

"Well then. I can't wait to meet him." Han feigned a light snore. "This mission should be absolutely scintillating."

Just as Han had expected, the outpost was a portrait of decrepitude. Shaped like a spoked wheel, it was run-down and badly in need of repairs, sporting out-of-date services for both respectable and errant craft. Grease and corrosive fluids were eating away at the fomex concourse and rust gave everything else a reddish tinge. The few streets carved out within the center hub guarded nothing more than what promised to be disappointing restaurants, hotels and supply stores constructed of the same dingy metal paneling. It was the middle of the afternoon and a vaporous grey rain drifted aimlessly between the buildings.

When they reached the edge of the ship-docks, Leia stopped dead in her tracks. "We need to talk," she said.

Han braced himself for the inevitable. He'd known something like this was coming. For the duration of the flight, the princess had been about as communicative as an Ah'ik'ran priestess after taking her vow of silence. Not only had she been uncharacteristically quiet, but she hadn't once attempted to lecture him on how to behave when they met their contact. If she knew he was leaving, obviously Luke had gotten tongue-tied again and blabbed away with the verbal filters off. "Talk."

"I need you to let me do this alone."

Han shook his head. That wasn't what he had expected.

"There's little Imperial activity here," Leia pointed out. "The only likely danger is falling over a railing. I _know_ him. He was a close friend of my fathers."

At that Han snorted. In the time he'd know her, Leia Organa let slip personal details of her life on Alderaan about as often as she missed Imperial stormtroopers at point-blank range. The way she'd spoke back on the _Falcon_, Han thought she sounded slightly wistful about the man, which was another first. If heated blood flowed through her veins he had yet to see it affect her demeanour or judgment. He really didn't want to see it up close.

"Is this a mission or some kind of reunion?"

Leia refused to be insulted. "What I meant was the matters we have to discuss are classified."

"I missed that during the briefing."

"I'm briefing you now. You may accompany me in person and spend the afternoon waiting in the rain outside our rendezvous point or spend the afternoon at the starport where you'll be much more comfortable. It's your choice."

It wasn't much of a choice. As much as he hated to admit she was right, there wasn't likely to be much trouble here. This particular outpost was an interchange point. It was less than two kilometres across at its widest point and truthfully, she couldn't go more than fifteen minutes in any one direction without literally falling off of it. Han swung his head and spotted a respectable looking restaurant beside the ship-dock entrance that actually advertised its specials in the windows. "Two timeparts and we meet right there," he said.

"All right."

In the throes of a foul mood, Han began making his way back toward his ship, which, courtesy of the heavy rains and wind, was probably being pounded with salt water and corrosive rain. Smuggling, as a full-time occupation, had been kinder to his ship than running as a pilot for the Rebellion. Han wasn't officially part of the Alliance, but he ate in her mess halls, weighed in at her meetings, and lay around with her techs and astromech droids in the main hangars repairing his ship. And inevitably, just when the _Falcon's_ status was upgraded from _critical _to _stable_, someone asked him to make a run, check out a distress call, escort a princess from one side of the galaxy to the other. Time and time again the _Falcon_ limped back to the Fleet and the vicious cycle repeated itself. This two-day jaunt in particular would cost him dearly in mechanical upkeep and he wasn't inclined to run errands for the Alliance out of the goodness of his heart much longer.

"Han Solo! Han Solo! Is that you?"

Han had his blaster half-drawn before he even turned around.

The approaching human was out of breath and overjoyed. "I thought it was you. I wouldn't miss that dashing profile anywhere." He eyed Han's right hand and grinned. "Still drawing off the cuff, eh? Put 'er away. You'll draw attention to us."

Gravity dragged the heavy weapon back into his holster. Blix Leel was scrawny and his tan spacer's clothes were threadbare but his face still maintained its contagious cheer. Unfortunately, spice-addiction and spice-running as a hobby and an occupation conflicted more often than not. In the brief time Han had known him, Blix had never been able to get it together long enough to make it in the smuggling business, but he always cleaned up long enough to give it a serious go. "Attention from whom?" he asked warily.

"Well… you aren't still running for that Hutt are you? I heard-"

"No." Han cut him off abruptly. Maybe Blix had been keeping tabs on him through the grapevine. Han wondered if he knew about the death-mark on his head and scanned the vicinity. The native-born Sacorrian was about the last person he'd expect to try and rope in a bounty for Jabba the Hutt, but a lifetime of harsh experiences had taught him not to rule anyone out. After a quick scan, Han ascertained that the only souls loitering about were a pair of Tynnans primarily occupied with escaping the weather. Tynnans were seal-like humanoids with thick pelts and well-muscled tails. A water-born species, they'd been steadily invading Lunera's floating cities for decades, setting up trading posts and making themselves right at home. Most other species avoided it like a plague.

Blix peered hopefully in the direction of the concourse where a cargo-lifter's mechanical claw was busily unloading a container ship. "You're here with the _Falcon_?"

"Yeah." Han folded his arms across his chest. Habitual paranoia set in tenfold. "I'm doing some private work. What do you want?"

"I know it's been a long time Han, but I need your help."

"I'm listening."

"The sector customs agents picked my ship for a random search a few weeks back. I was…uh… carrying prohibited material. My ship was impounded and I can't afford the charges. It's on lease and I haven't been able to contact the owners yet."

"How much?"

Blix named an exorbitant figure.

"If I even had that much…" Han tightened his jaw for the sake of politeness. _I wouldn't give it to him._ If he had that much he'd be well on his way to paying off Jabba and wouldn't be standing on a cesspool of a planet calculating the odds that an old acquaintance was preparing to sell him out.

"There's not much of organized government left here, in case you haven't noticed by the looks of things. The current fares to the nearest spaceport start at two-thousand and I'm down to my last fifty credits."

Han didn't say anything.

"Remember that time I pulled for you on Typha Dor?"

"Uh huh," Han said, although he was busy thinking, _Leia won't like this _and _do you actually care? _

"I had your best interests at heart the entire time."

"You made money off of me."

"The bet was in your favour."

Han sighed. No, Blix hadn't done any worse than he might have done under the same circumstances. Although his personal habits were nothing to write home about, he was harmless. A few weeks on Lunera were punishment enough for any old wrongs. He said, "Look. I can give you a lift to any coreward spaceport you want. That's it. But no spice, Blix. If Chewie so much as picks up a whiff of spice you can sit here and rot until the spaceport sinks."

"I swear Han, I'm clean."

"Yeah, you'd better be." Han pointed toward his ship. "This way."

Roan a'Penaru's local assistant, a reddish-furred Tynnan, led Leia away from the outpost center along a series of winding palisades and steel quays. The fringes of the outpost were dotted with residential housing units, austere spheres that floated in the brackish waters like the swollen wombs of massive arachnids. Connected to each sphere, and connecting each sphere to another, were viaducts and mortared steel braces. The resulting effect was that the units looked like silvery spiders perched on the water's surface. The architecture vaguely reminded Leia of the Alderaanian Oversea City. In the shallower sections of the Green Sea, cities had been built on stilts with great care, so that their impact on the surrounding aquatic life was minimal.

They stopped outside one such a dwelling.

The Tynnan rapped on the door and Leia found herself a little nervous as it opened.

Roan a'Penaru was still strikingly handsome, almost beautiful even. His eyebrows were still dark and wiry, arched thickly across his brow like a Corellian hawk. His cheekbones and jaw were finely chiselled, his posture still held an aristocratic air. But his once vibrant face was gaunt and shadowed; the thick raven hair that had captivated her in her youth was gone, shaved so clumsily to the quick so that his scalp bore small red nicks. In the few steps it took for him to cross the grated quay, he exuded a restless, almost manic energy that she usually associated with seriously disturbed individuals, violent criminals and people trying to throw off the effects of a stun blast.

In matters of decorum, however, he hadn't changed at all.

Bail Organa's long-time friend, her first mentor, embraced her tightly, kissing both her cheeks and her forehead. "Leia, Leia" he exhaled, shaking his head as though he didn't believe what he saw. "It's so wonderful to see you."

"It's good to see you too."

"Why, look at you."

Self-consciously, her smile thinning, Leia flipped the edges of her sorrel-coloured poncho over her shoulders and stiffened her spine. The grey military uniform was old and faded. The sole of one boot was peeling back beneath the toe and her efforts to handy-seal it in previous days had been in vain. "I don't have many occasions to dress up these days." Roan was staring at her handily modified blaster. Close to her bare skin in two other places, she carried other more lethal means of self-defence. "Nor can I afford to take chances." She took a deep breath and said, somewhat tentatively, "You shaved your head?"

"It's tradition, isn't it?" The man touched a spindly finger to an uneven patch of fuzzy silver, tracing it as though suddenly self-conscious.

"Was it?" Leia didn't remember it being a tradition at all. True, the ancient grassland natives had shaved their heads and cut their hair as a sign of mourning, but they'd been driven off the plains and assimilated into the cities centuries ago. That had been long before the days of Alderaan Ascendancy Contention, when it seemed that the Republic had existed since the dawn of time and would persevere until the end of eternity.

"How was your flight?"

"Blessedly uneventful."

"Glad to hear it." He turned and gestured to the waters less than a meter below. Water sloshed freely up and onto the quays. The sonic motivators in this section of the station didn't function well. "So what do you think of her?"

A tourism ad at the spaceport had said that the outpost's support columns only extended a hundred meters or so below the surface and that they connected with the ruins of the drowned cities. With an abiding fascination she stared down, wondering if it was wishful seeing, or if the wedge of yellowish water beckoning to her was a vision of near death, or old death, a tunnel leading to a dead civilization, and… could she see the ancient cities if she strained her eyes? "Are we-?"

"No. No. This outpost was built atop a mountain range, unclimbed by any mortal."

"Did most inhabitants flee in time?"

"Oh yes. They had a century's warning. The exodus began almost thirty years before the seas began rising." Roan ran a deeply calloused hand across his forehead. "Of course, not all of them left. If you hang out at the right places you can listen to the old-timers who remember what it used to be. The locals have simply taken to calling her the Afterword."

Leia clenched the railings tightly. The fine spray and dampness permeated her light clothing easily. A damp breeze licked at her cheeks.

Roan chattered with his assistant quickly in an unfamiliar language, apparently sending him off, and then pointed in the direction of the insectoid dwelling. "Shall we?"

Together, they climbed down into the low-ceilinged apartment, which swayed gently with her every step. Leia strained to keep her expression impassive while taking in the sparse furnishings and general lack of lived-in-ness. The unit held a small eating booth, a condenser unit for cooking and food storage, one black metallic chair and a fold-out bed. There were no other furnishings. There wasn't even a wool blanket or sheet tucked up into the bed.

"It's clean," Roan explained. "I only use it for meetings. This section of the city runs relatively un-policed and unnoticed."

"Oh. I see," she said, although truthfully the reassurance left Leia feeling more unsettled. It was only logical that Roan choose to meet with her where he customarily did business, but she'd anticipated a few moments to relax and catch up with him, for them to be their old selves without any pressures. In fact, she'd counted on it.

He strolled over to the sink, collected a pair of misted blue glasses from the plasboard cupboard above it, and then opened his refrigeration unit. It was empty save for a pitcher and an ornately engraved bottle that contained a clear liquid that she doubted was water. "Are you thirsty?" he asked. "Would you care for the effluvious shill they pass off as purified water or like something stronger?"

"That depends."

"I'm afraid to ask what that means, Leia, although I'll wager a guess." Roan reached for the pitcher. The twitchy, spasmodic energy was returning with a vengeance. He had awkwardly precise way of moving, as though he were closer to one hundred than fifty standard years. He filled only one glass halfway, set it down on the counter, then picked up the other and held it crooked in his right hand, seemingly uncertain as to what purpose the object held. "I'm going to give you a bit of unsolicited advice before we begin," he announced. "Don't let your sympathy and feelings for me disarrange your judgment."

"How can I avoid it?" Leia blurted out. "You were a dear, dear friend to my father-"

"_No_. We disagreed on many things, among them your being involved with the Resistance-"

"I was an elected representative representing my constituents."

"Elected to the Imperial Senate. I voted for you and I don't recall the _Rebel Alliance_ being on the ballot."

"And what would you have had me do?"

He jerked his head back and forth with his face averted. "Forgive me for sounding harsh, but I've cursed your father for his lack of foresight, for his naïve belief that the Emperor would allow Alderaan's support for the Alliance to go unpunished. Allowing your flagship to be the bearer of information so precious that the Empire's wrath would suffer Alderaan to be wiped from the face of the galaxy. I can only ask myself, what was he thinking?"

"Stop it. I won't allow you to speak ill of my father for that which was out of his control." With deft fingers Leia unclasped the fastenings of her poncho and carefully draped it over the back of the solitary chair. Bitterness born of too many sleepless nights wondering 'what if' sharpened her tone. "We had no choice. Had we not acted then Alderaan might very well be one of many, not merely one."

"Then let me make this clear to you as you were probably too young to remember. In the end there was little love lost between myself and your father. After you won the election, I accepted the position on Excarga because I wouldn't support his fantastical ideas. Having you trained in combat and weapons, signing that _damned _treaty."

"How can you say that?" Leia's face twisted into an expression of defiant indignation. The Corellian Treaty had heralded the birth of the Alliance. Her father and the Alliance's current leader, Mon Mothma, had been two of the original signatories.

"I knew it was the beginning of the end of Alderaan." He paused to breathe before throwing the punch. "You should have known too."

Leia hadhandled similar accusations from other Alderaanians over the past twenty months, although never so directly. They were usually more discreet, speaking in whispers when she passed by them in the halls or allowing themselves to be quoted off-the-record in the Alderaan Expatriate Network's monthly journal. The newsfeeds never actually named _her_ as the cause of her homeworld's destruction but they did say things like, "an anonymous source close to the deceased Viceroy states that he routinely disregarded and dismissed warnings that Imperial Intelligence sources were growing suspicious of the activity of certain members of the Royal Family."

It hurt so much more, coming from someone she knew.

Raw emotions threatening to spill over, Leia set the secured satchel on the dining table. Roan was still standing in front of his refrigeration unit, buzzing in his stark white tunic and robes like a restless spirit ensconced in the flesh, amongst the living against his will. With an easy insight borne of the immeasurable grief they both shared, she understood that it was the past twenty odd months that had aged him so terribly, not years. But now, she didn't know what motivated Roan, other than grief. Other Alderaanians who'd been offworld when the _Death Star_ destroyed it joined the Alliance. Very few took these types of missions; she'd always thought that Roan was more solid than that. And the old Roan never would have questioned her father's judgment, never would have questioned her own, and never would have come within a hair's breadth of accusing her of...

_Get a grip Organa_.

"I knew what I was doing."

Roan shrugged carelessly, so much like a certain dark-haired Corellian whenever he was being deliberately dismissive or avoiding a confrontation that it was unnerving. He set the empty glass down, picked up the half-full one and said, "In the end, we become part of everything we hate, essentially. Your father hated me when I left for Excarga. If you hate me now it will make your assignment here much easier to bear."

"I don't hate you."

"You should."

"I don't."

"My wife and son died on Alderaan."

"You don't have to do this."

"My son was nearly two. She was pregnant with him when I last saw you."

Leia's mind went blank. She'd been a girl then and over the past two years such trivial events had ceased to matter to her. Still, the words hit their mark and stung, as they were intended to do. She was used to dealing with scum and shady characters that appeared semi-trustable only in the darker corners of spaceport cantinas, people who danced on the precipice between sanity and insanity. She was used to being on her guard for the sake of her life, not having her emotions accosted by someone she'd once called a friend.

She said, "I'm not going to hate you. There's no need."

"Yes there is."

"For you to be what? A mercenary and martyr with a background in trades and finance?"

"What of yourself? The daughter of a viceroy and the youngest senator ever elected from Alderaan. Raised to be a politician from the time you were knee-high."He gestured to the slender weapon nestled at her hip with eyes that were still remarkably grey and clear. "Look at you now. You're an Alliance leader with a fire in your belly. We are what we are, what we've become out of necessity. You and I both know that I am no different than the droves that fill your ranks. Treat me as you would any other fighter on the verge of bringing the Alliance a great victory."

Leia folded her arms and reclined back against the tabletop's edge. "Roan, _listen _to me. The truth is that you're more effective and useful to us as the _de facto_ leader of the Legion in this Sector. If anything goes wrong you have no evasive flying experience, no combat experience. There are hundreds of other ways in which you can support the war effort that won't entail-"

"Does the Alliance Command share your assessment of my capabilities?"

"I'm here as a representative of Command."

"Do they share your assessment?"

She struggled for neutral wording. Command might share her generalized assessment, but Leia had to concede that the mission was elementary. Even someone who'd never flown more than a ground hovercraft would be able to perform satisfactorily.

When she didn't answer, he said; "I don't think you've adequately considered the ramifications of what you're saying. For instance, who do you propose shall take my place?"

"Another will come forward." They _had_ to. Roan was waiting with the proffered glass. She accepted it finally and bowed her head slightly. "They always do."

"_I'm_ the one who sends them. Quite frankly, I'm tired of sending them. I hate it. I hate it and I'm tired of sending them when all I want is to take their place. This time…" He smoothed both palms over his heart. "This time I get my wish."

Leia shook her head, wanting to take him by the shoulders and shake a shred of sense into him.

"I should tell you… I know how it happened," he said distractedly, bringing both glasses to the table. "I know that you were there and that they asked-"

Every fibre of the young woman's poised body tensed. "_Don't_." She leaned away from him as though he'd moved to strike her, surprised by the animosity in her voice. Even in her debriefing, in the days after the Battle of Yavin, they had never asked directly. At least, she couldn't recall their asking. Those days were like muddied waters in her mind; the more she attempted to remember the cloudier they became, the more difficult it was to see. In retrospect, Leia was certain that she must have told them herself, for nothing that had transpired on the _Death Star_ was a secret. "I _saw_ Roan. I was there. And I can't relive it. Not for anyone."

Roan's expression twisted. "With all that you suffered, you must have dreamed of striking back against the Empire over the last two years."

"Yes."

"Then you must understand. We _all_ die."

Dying made perfect sense to everyone when it came to universal theories on the eventual breakdown of cell structure and the casualties of war. Not in the midst of life. At least not to her.

"No, not like this," she replied, for the sake of provoking intimate conversation and the hope that such conversation might lead to reason. Roan had always been skilled at making their exchanges feel natural, be they regarding political matters or universal dilemmas. He'd been that way even when her age was tender enough that the slightest encouragement, the slightest hint that they were equal confidantes left her feeling exhilarated. Now they were both adults. "You requested that I come here. You must have known that I would plead with you to reconsider. I assumed that's why you asked for me."

"You assumed incorrectly." Roan rubbed his cheek against the pale cloth of his shoulder. "I _must_ be the one to do this."

The water tasted as though it had been filtered in a sewer tank and did nothing to soothe the lumps in her throat. "No," she began to say. "No you do-"

There was a loud clattering noise. Leia whipped her blaster free of her holster in less than half a breath. In the same instant, Roan withdrew a sleek palmgun from his boot. Two figures made their way through the vestibule. One was Roan's representative, the sleek-furred Tynnan. He had his rifle squarely between the shoulder blades of a very familiar man. "I found him outside eavesdropping."

"I wasn't eavesdropping," Solo protested. "I was trying not to fall over the railing."

"That's Captain Solo, my associate." Leia glared icily and lowered her blaster with some difficulty. What had it been? All of half thirty minutes since he'd promised her he wouldn't go anywhere. "I thought we were to meet at the restaurant."

"Their salads were wilted and the hubber-steaks looked overdone."

"Is there an emergency? You could have used your comlink."

"No emergency." Han shrugged indolently. "But m_y_ orders were to keep an eye on you at all times."

"You must be the back-up?" Roan prompted.

She cleared her throat. "Captain Solo-"

"Back-up. Pilot. Glorified chauffeur." Han offered up a wry smile. "When we're aloneshe has a few other pet names that no princess I've ever known-"

"Oh Han, shut up!" Leia ground the heel of her palm viciously into the crease of her temple. Leave it to Han Solo to embarrass her in an appallingly unprofessional manner just because he felt snubbed. Well, she would deal with him later. Fortunately, the lights were too dim for Roan to notice the colour in her cheeks. "Where's Chewbacca?"

"Something non-human, tall, slinky and furry asked him for a stroll on the promenade. Since the last thing I need is a philandering Wookiee with a life-debt I thought I would avoid chaperoning."

In her current state of wanting to strangle him, Leia couldn't tell if he was kidding or not. She had been a politician for far too long to lose her cool, but she knew her frustration had settled plainly across her features. "Please accept my apology. We appear to have had a… misunderstanding when planning the rendezvous. It's up to you. Whatever makes you most comfortable. We can continue this alone if you prefer. I'm quite certain that Captain Solo will understand."

Roan was busy looking Han over curiously. "That won't be necessary. Let me go find my assistant and give you two a moment."

Irate, Leia waited until he vanished through the doorway before muttering, "You don't need to be here for this. I thought I made that abundantly clear."

"You did." Han picked up her limp poncho, settled his lean frame into the black metallic chair and draped the garment across his lap. "But I'd hate to knowingly violate an official order. Just pretend I'm invisible. I won't say a word."

"This is unacceptable!" Leia hissed.

"You know what I think is unacceptable Your Highness? How about the next time we're officiating for the Alderaanian Death Legion you do me the honour of letting me know. For that matter, when a directive coming straight from Rieekan's mouth says I'm your back-up-"

"How did you…" With a sigh of defeat, Leia eased into the booth, settled her head into her hands and suppressed a scream. It really didn't matter how he'd found out. Rieekan had probably sent off a follow-up log or a tactical advisory and Han had probably just returned to the _Falcon _and happened to read it. Unfortunately, his sudden appearance ruined her plans. She bit her lip and looked up. Han's jaw was still taut. He was genuinely angry, perhaps rightfully so, although she hated to admit it. "Fine. I should have told you. Please accept my apology."

At her immediate display of contriteness, Han looked about to fall off the slim metal chair. "Then why the fuck didn't you?"

"It didn't concern you." _Roan isn't going to change his mind so…_ "And it doesn't matter now."

"Uh huh." Han's expression morphed from direly annoyed to annoyingly knowing. "I see."

"See _what_?"

"I interrupted something."

"Yes you did."

"Aha…"

"_Oh_!"_Of all the_… The vestibule door was opening. Leia managed to get the last word, childishly and quickly, before Roan ducked inside. "You're delusional and you have the personality of a Gamorrean." They stared at each other viciously while a slightly winded Roan resumed his seat at the table. Fortunately for her, Han wasn't in the mood to continue the round of insults in front of a third party.

"Everything okay in here?"

"We're fantastic," Han answered before she had a chance to say anything. "How are you?"

Leia consoled herself with the thought that one day soon she might accidentally turn her blaster on him, strike a leg or an arm or that planet-sized ego of his and send him to the med-bay. _But of course_, she found herself fantasizing, _you'd have to make sure you were set were for only low-fire. Just high enough to cause him a great deal of pain without any permanent damage. _"Um," she began. "So where were we?"

Roan retrieved a portable console unit from beneath his side of the booth and began setting it up, flipping switches and positioning the holographic viewer. "We were about to review the datafile."

"Right." Leia licked the center of her upper lip, uncrossed her legs beneath the table and tried to shake off her revulsion at what she was supposed to do next. People took their own lives into their hands all the time; it was far rarer that they actively participated in ending them. The trick, she'd supposed beforehand, was not to show what she was feeling or not to feel at all. At present, the trick was also to avoid dwelling on what Roan was thinking after Solo's comments. And avoid dwelling on the fact that the source of such appalling irritation was sitting just a meter or so behind her. She slipped the datachip into the appropriate console slot, lifted her thumb to the keypad and let it hover. "Before we begin I have to ask you-"

"Am I fully cognizant of what I am about to do? Am I aware that once underway there will be no turning back?"

Leia gave it one last shot. "_Are_ you?"

"Let me see the file." Roan reached over and pressed her thumb down. It sank obediently to the keypad as though boneless.

_'Password_' the screen demanded.

"_Ten thousand summers in the Castle Lands_," Leia said.

A small holo-field materialized above the table with the graph of a small star system. Leia zoomed in on a nondescript land-covered planet, and then zoomed further in on the sizeable Star Destroyer located just beyond the planet's gravitational pull. "The shuttle's point of origin is Duros. It's registered with _CorDuro Shipping_. The exchange will take place at the Durosian Primary Skyhook. The pilot is expecting you. He has a spare uniform, spare ground credentials and any cosmetic basics you might need." Leia gathered the code-key into her hand and handed it over, fighting the urge to glance over her shoulder and see if Han was paying attention. "The central lockers on the ground hub, Section C, Box 46A9 – that's where the supplies will be. There are private freshers there. Rent one and change. Then proceed directly to the Primary Skyhook. The explosive will already be on-board. You'll follow the local traffic out, clear the markers and make the jump to hyper. "

Roan stroked a patch of fuzzy growth along the back of his scalp.

"Our sources tell us the _Furor_ is scheduled to be behind Lijuter's second moon, docked with the orbital research station there. You're supposed to be carrying precious cargo, so you'll be diverted from the central hanger to a more private one, which is located beside the solar ionization reactor. We've been able to project that the force of the 3HX3 mine will start a chain reaction, starting with the _Furor's_ reactor. The damage to the research station should be severe, if not devastating. The _Furor_ itself will be incinerated."

The sound of Han's chair occasionally grating against the floors told her that he was paying attention after all. And she knew what he probably was thinking…

_Why kind of idiot would fly a supply shuttle directly into a Star Destroyer?_

"When you exit hyper you'll only need to wait for the _Furor's_ hail. According to the regular pilot, they're maniacal about controlling any craft entering their hangers. You won't need to do a thing. Simply permit their system to fly you into the bay."

"How long once she docks before-"

"Approximately three minutes."

"Three minutes," Roan repeated.

The chair moved again. Leia waited but no one spoke. Roan's gaze had swung to the holograph chart. Behind her, Han was keeping his mouth shut. From what she knew of Corellians, this type of mission was contrary to their collective nature. She'd only accepted Command's suggestion that the _Millennium Falcon_ escort her because she felt manipulating Han into ignoring her on Lunera would be easy. It wasn't proving to be so at all and if he was staring daggers of disapproval at the back of her head, she was inclined to admit that she could practically feel them. The notion that he would forever afterward think less of her after this afternoon filled her with a very unanticipated and sharp pang of regret.

_Well, _she told herself,_ he's leaving and it doesn't matter. _

The silence grew unbearable. It was like willing herself to hold her breath until she grew faint and her vision blurred over. She picked the misted glass up from the table, forgetting that the water had tasted foul earlier, brought the rim to her lip and drank. The ordinary motions of swallowing calmed her and she set the glass back on the smeared ring of condensation. Roan was right. Well-bred women of Alderaan's Royal family didn't study hand-to-hand combat, master small artillery fire, didn't sent people they knew on suicide missions.

For the thousandth time in the past year, she wondered how she'd gotten here and dug around in her belt pocket for a tiny clear vial. Two white tablets rattled inside. "If something goes wrong, they'll know the minute you disembark that you're not their regular pilot. You only need one and you'll have about thirty seconds of consciousness before it takes effect. It dissolves almost instantly and the effects are painless."

"What about the vial itself?"

"Don't wait."

Both of them turned sharply toward the Han.

"He speaks," Leia muttered under breath.

"If you're captured, don't wait," he explained casually. "It would turn up in a body scan and believe me, you don't want them flushing it out of your system the old-fashioned way."

Suppressing a shiver of disgust, Leia set the vial in the center of the table and again reached for her water glass, but just before her fingers encircled it, in a moment of supreme awkwardness, Roan's thumb hooked her glass. The contents splashed backwards and pooled across the table, soaking the ivory white folds of his loose-fitting tunic; droplets also splattered slightly outward and peppered her sleeves.

"I'm sorry," the older Alderaanian said. He'd already snatched the vial with his other hand. "That was my fault."

Just then, the buzz of a comlink interrupted them. Han said, "What?" and the sound of a braying Wookiee promptly filled the cabin. The pair broke off into a conversation that consisted entirely of scratchy growling and Han saying "uh huh," over and over. Then Han said, "Where'd he go?"

Leia hunched her shoulders inward. "Where'd _who_ go?"

Han scratched the bridge of his nose and listened to Chewbacca's reply. Then he translated. "An interested party wearing white was snooping around my ship. He's left for the time being – probably to poke around the portmaster's office and pry information from the registry. Chewie figures he'll be back."

Of course, Chewbacca had been guarding the _Falcon_, probably from a discreet distance all this time. She sighed inwardly. If the _Falcon_ had attracted unwelcome attention they had to act now and decisively. "Imperial?"

"Who else would it be?" Han retorted.

"Damn it."Leia fidgeted and glanced around the apartment anxiously. Without meaning to, she caught herself looking to Han for his opinion and prepared to follow his lead. "What do you think?"

"How's he getting to Duros for the exchange?"

"A passenger freighter."

"Huh." Han shifted one shoulder. "Well, do you think that's a good idea?"

Frustrated, Leia exhaled noisily. His posturing and expression suggested plainly that he _didn't_, but he wouldn't just come out and say it unless she asked him directly. She said curtly, "I don'tknow.That's why I just asked you what you think."

"Fine." Han bared his teeth unhappily, as though unconvinced of something. "I don't think it's a good idea." He looked sharply toward Roan, who was twitching toward the doorway. "It looks like you'll have to come with us."

Chewie began a fresh bout of howling.

"We have a squad of stormtroopers in the landing bay," Han translated. "A'Penaru, what's the reaction time for an illegal departure on this dump?"

"Quarter a timepart on a good day."

"Chewie, fly northwest and keep looking for a tall subspace receiver. Lower the landing hatch. We're gonna have to be real quick."

The first twinges of panic began to settle in. The console, the files, all the clearance codes and data-disks were sitting naked on the apartment's table. If Imperials discovered any of it… _I need something heavy,_ she thought, peering about the small apartment desperately. Well, the console itself was portable and probably heavy enough. Taking care to close all active programs and set them to self-destruct, she crammed the equipment inside the satchel.

Leia flung herself against the gantry railing and dropped the satchel. At first, the satchel bobbed at the surface, resisting the pull of gravity, and then it lurched beneath the waves until only a corner jutted above the surface like a leathery fin. Then nothing. What was done was done and her hopes for talking Roan out of the mission sank too. The wind whipped the shortest tendrils free from her braids so that they tangled in her eyelashes and did nothing to dispel the heavy feel of failure that left her insides feeling like stone.


	2. Chapter 2

The _Millennium Falcon_ made the jump to hyperspace by the skin of her molecularly bonded hull. Five Imperial scoutships materialized from out of nowhere as soon as they broke Lunera's atmosphere. Han had to plot a short hyperspace jump while dodging unfriendly fire, with the princess demanding he speed it up.

He was sweating by the time they reached lightspeed.

"This is an… interesting ship." The Alderaanian sounded as though he was a potential buyer out on the _Falcon_ for a test flight.

Han had almost forgotten that he had an audience. The _Falcon's _latest passengers were packed into the cockpit. "She's one of the fastest ships in the galaxy."

"You've never seen her at her finest," Blix piped up. "I mean it. Oh Han, you haven't seen half of the transport freighters I've flown on over the past two years. They either have no defences or no shields; sometimes the mainframe computer systems are hacked together and can't get along."

"These ones _still_ don't get along," Han said.

Roan intruded on their light reminiscing with a scratchy sound in the base of his throat that sounded as though it had once been a laugh. "Ahem. I'm sure the Alliance greatly appreciates having such a worthy, albeit provincial vessel with which to escort Her Royal Highness from mission to mission."

Leia coughed softly and unfastened her crash webbing. "Yes, Roan. Now, if you'll all excuse me..."

_Lady, I'm going to strangle you if you leave me alone with him_, Han thought, but she missed his death stare; her eyes skimmed over a'Penaru as she left, and a'Penaru, in turn, watched the sway of her hips rather appreciatively. As did Blix.

"Who is she?"Blix asked. "Where'd you find her?"

"I didn't find her," Han returned. "I'm just working with her temporarily." He swept a hand through his unkempt hair. Blix was still staring down the passageway. Any minute now his drool would hit the deckplates. "Don't even think about it," he said. "Believe me, she'd find _you_ provincial."

"Working? Temporarily?" Roan muttered. "Is that what you call running with the Alliance?"

Han ignored the question. "How long have you been the front-man for the Death Legion?"

"I'm not at liberty to disclose any dates." Roan spoke with same brand of politeness perfected by skip tracers, tax collectors and beings who prospered by making other people's lives miserable. "Too many people's lives depend on our operation."

Self-aggrandizing talk was another trait he didn't expect coming from a man who was about to die. The part of him that instinctively disliked a'Penaru ceased disliking and began loathing in earnest. And the mass of freshly bruised knuckles on Roan's right hand were more diverting to his eye than the intangible aura of near-death.

Han switched both the tactical display and the vid-screen exhibiting the _Falcon's _sensitivesystems data off. "Let's get one thing straight," he said flatly. "The Imperials showed up on Lunera because somebody tipped them off and it wasn't us. Now, I'm not in the habit of taking complete strangers onboard and if I'd had it my way I would've left you on Lunera. So go make yourself at home in the crew cabin. You come near the cockpit again or touch anything on my ship and you'll find yourself strait-jacketed in a supply closet for the duration of this flight."

"Her Highness-"

"This isn't her ship and we don't agree on much."

Roan bowed his head. "Very well, Captain Solo."

It wasn't Han's best moment and it was untimely. Leia was suddenly standing in the portal-way with an expression best described as forcibly neutral.

"I didn't know you'd joined up with the Alliance," Blix exclaimed loudly. "You don't say-"

"Chewie, keep an eye out." Han brushed past her and headed for his private cabin.

She pounded after him. "Sometimes I just can't believe you."

"Try harder."

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

"Listen to me. All you're required to do is _fly_ your ship. Keep your opinions to yourself from this point forward. Additionally, if would serve you well to remember that you're here as an Alliance representative and under the circumstances-"

"Spare us both the rhetoric and the song and dance."

"Youbrought a civilian on board without consulting me." Leia lowered her voice. "He could compromise the mission."

"He's a freighter-bum, not an undercover agent, and he's getting off at the first major starport we pass. And in case you haven't noticed, Your Worship, the mission has already compromised itself plenty. It was supposed to be wrapped up before we left Lunera. Now we're headed for Duros with a hot ship." They'd arrived at his quarters. Lunera's smelly excuse for rain had soaked him. He pulled his damp shirt over his head, flung it on the floor and kicked off his boots. "Don't forget, Sweetheart. This isn't your ship. I can cram whoever I want in the smuggling compartments without consulting you."

"What are you doing?"

"What do you think?" He dragged apart a set of folding paneled doors and began rummaging through the mayhem that currently resembled his closet. "You're the one who followed me in here, remember?"

"Oh." Looking vaguely embarrassed, Leia turned to leave, managing to act as though she was merely seeking the exit and not deliberately looking away. She stopped shy of the hatch, inspecting the cabin and making a point of momentarily ignoring him.

Like most Corellian ships, the captain's quarters contained only one extra wide sleeping berth with an overhead shelf, currently home to an array of spare gear, goggles, flight helmets, and thermalsuits, all safely secured behind a curtain of tightly-woven webbing. The décor was a blend of off-white lexoplast, used for the flooring and built in furniture, and the silver chrome used to accent virtually everything else. Various bins held datareaders and flimsiplasts with flight information. Glowpanels were stationed overhead but Han never used them, preferring the soft granular light of the berth's halo-lamps instead.

Han finally located a long-sleeved white shirt. "So was his hand all banged up when you got there?"

"What do you mean?"

"His right hand." Han yanked the shirt over his head, then made a fist and rapped it against the dividing-wall. "He looks like he pounded something with bones made of duracrete."

"I can't remember… I don't think so."Leia turned around completely, fretful. "_Why _do you dislike him so much? Has he said anything? Done anything?"

Han shrugged ambiguously.

"Then what?"

"Why did he need to beat it outside when I showed up?"

"He went to speak with his assistant."

"I think the assistant is what happened to his hand."

"Captain Solo-"

"_Han_."

Unfazed, she said, all business-like, "Han, if you suspect him of anything you need to disclose it to me."

"Don't patronize me."

"I'm not patronizing you. I'm being sincere."

Han studied her for a second. Maybe she _was_ being sincere, that or she was putting on an act worthy of the holo-film Nebula Awards. "All right. It's just that it seems like too much of a coincidence to me that the last few 'martyrs' from a'Penaru's group have only gone after small targets, small change – nothing the Empire couldn't afford to lose." Seeing Leia's face evince surprise, Han added, "Yes, I actually pay attention to the goings on at the Fleet."

"I'm listening."

"Now, suddenly, there's a major coup, an opportunity the likes of which no one's seen since you got your hands on the _Death Star_ schematics and suddenly he _has_ to take it. It _has_ to be him."

"Whatever it is you're trying to say…" Leia shook her head. "It doesn't make any sense. In fifteen timeparts we'll be at Duros. That's the end of it." Suddenly sapped of energy, she slumped into the small conform lounge and studied her wrist chrono. "He'll be dead in under a standard day."

That last part didn't make any sense. Even Han agreed. He studied her worriedly. This wasn't the type of assignment he would ever have scrawled Leia Organa's name beside. It took a lot of guts to send a man to his death. It took exponentially more to send someone you knew, _had_ known. "Do you mind if I ask you something?"

"What?"

"Why'd they give you this?"

"I didn't have the luxury of refusing Rieekan."

Han knew the feeling and immediately sympathized. Days before, he had turned down a second offer of a command position from Rieekan. In the ensuing minutes, the General had offered him this particular assignment, claiming that the Alliance didn't have another craft that wouldn't stand out on the backwater outpost on Lunera. Han hadn't been able to turn him down twice in the space of the conversation, even if it entailed two days alone with Leia Organa. "You ever think about just saying 'no'?"

"And he insisted."

"_He_ as in Roan?"

"_He_ as in Roan," she repeated. "In regard to my oversight earlier today, I didn't know how you'd feel about the mission objective. From what I know of Corellian culture this is very much against your… your… well, your ideologies of life and death. That's why I withheld the information from you."

"Yeah. Sure." Han's mouth hardened imperceptibly at the corners. If former senator Leia Organa's _only_ reason for not briefing him beforehand was out of a vague respect for his never-before expressed personal beliefs then he was secretly a Jedi Knight. "So he's hell-bent on going through with this?"

"Apparently so."

"And you're okay with it?"

The pain of uncertainty was etched into her forehead. "No."

"No?"

"No." She elegantly unfolded her elbows and crossed her wrists over her left knee. "May I speak frankly?"

Han thought back to her reaction the firsttime he'd refused Rieekan's offer to make him a commander. It had involved an endless barrage of shouting and a hydrospanner being converted into a projectile object in the middle of a main hangar. "Sure."

"Before you arrived I made an effort to dissuade him. In vain. That was why I needed to go to the checkpoint alone." She lightly cleared her throat. "High Command had no idea that I would attempt to undermine the entire mission and I… well, the only reason I accepted was with the intention to do so."

The pieces of the puzzle swiftly fitted together. So _that _was the reason she'd looked so crestfallen when he'd barged in on their strategy session. Han snatched a pillow and copped a seat on the end of his bunk. "You're serious?"

"I wouldn't joke about this."

"In that case, I like you a hell of a lot better when you're not acting like the Agentess of Death on the Alliance's behalf."

"A few might regard my actions today as sabotage."

Han idly stroked underside of his chin and stared without blinking at the hollow at the base of her throat. It was a smooth concave indent where the skin was opaque over her collarbone. Her pulse flickered there. "Tell them to go screw themselves."

The suggestion was rewarded with an undeniably relieved sigh, as though what he thought genuinely mattered to her. (_And you figured hell would freeze over first_, Han thought wryly.) She went on speaking with added, growing determination; "Look, it's not as if intellectually and strategically, I don't fully comprehend the categorical ramifications of an unexpected strike against the _Furor_ - that is to say what it would, or will, mean for the Alliance. It will be like cutting fingers off the Empire's left hand when no one's looking."

"But?"

"On a more personal level, this isn't how I want to win."

"After what they did to Alderaan, I'd want to go after them with every ounce of firepower." The shudder was almost beneath her skin. Had Han not been sitting near enough to touch her, he wouldn't have seen the motion pass through her at all. It was his fault; he usually had more tact. He pretended he hadn't noticed. "Hell, they've done far less to me and I still have no problems going after them."

"Call it a professional level then. I don't agree with the message it sends. We're revealing to our would-be allies that we're desperate, that we can't stage a battle and retain a shred of hope. They need to _believe _we can win."

"That's your diplomatic side talking," he pointed out. "The Alliance will lose more lives if she simply stages an all-out assault."

"See, you're right," Leia groaned. "And two-hundred proton torpedoes won't equal the explosive power of _one_ 3HX3 mine detonating beside a reactor core."

"So Roan insists he wants to do this and, whether you like it or not, it's the best course of action for all involved."

"Something like that."

Han thought about that for a moment. "And it _had_ to be you delivered the data."

Leia furrowed both slim brows. "_Please_. Surely you're not suggesting this was some kind of a trap again."

"You asked for my opinion. The Imperials had impeccable timing back on Lunera. If Chewie wasn't with _Falcon _we would have been completely cut off from her. That's one tiny floating city. They would have found us in record time. We were lucky." Han smoothed the cuffs of his shirt down. "Very lucky. We might have ten brigades waiting for us at the Durosian Primary Skyhook."

"You don't know him. He's never done anything like this."

Personally, so far Han thought Roan was a stuck up, high-tongued aristocrat in dire need of a laxative, but he decided to keep that to himself. "What was he back on Alderaan?"

"The World Family's Master of Finances."

He turned his startled snort of laughter into a cough. "Eyebrows was your Master of-"

"I know. I know." She drew the back of her hand across her forehead. "It's ridiculous in theory. This all is."

"You're right. It is." It was more than that. It was downright ludicrous. Han leaned back and slapped the switch for the onboard intercom system. Chewbacca's distinctive whuffling breathing sounded the same as always, wet and vaguely asthmatic. Blix was probably raiding the galley. A'Penaru was probably sulking in the crew cabin, contemplating his last moments and what Leia Organa looked like naked, which as far as Han could tell, was at present the only interest they had in common.

"He doesn't call me Your Highness anymore," she said, absent-mindedly.

"He does when you're not around."

"That's strange."

It wasn't really. It was a'Penaru's subtle means of hammering in the class distinctions between them.

"You really don't trust him?"

That was less of a question than it was a statement of fact. A'Penaru certainly _affected _a general air of fucked-up-ness, but Han wouldn't have made any bets on how far beneath his skin the personality disorder was rooted. Bail Organa and a'Penaru had been old friends; naturally, Leia's judgment was clouded by a lifetime of memories. Maybe, Han determined stoically, she was seeking any reason, no matter how flimsy, to prevent the mission from going ahead and he just happened to be her nearest accomplice. "Do you trust me?"

The look on her face was indecipherable. "Every other shift," she said.

For about the fiftieth time that day, Han wondered what exactly had or hadn't taken place between she and Roan back on Alderaan. Come to think of it, he wasn't sure he wanted to know. He said, "That's good. We're about even," and climbed to his feet.

"May I ask a favour?"

"Maybe." Han shrugged elaborately. "I haven't decided whether or not to forgive you for comparing me to a Gamorrean."

The princess moved her lips into a smile. "When you do finally decide, please don't call him Eyebrows to his face."

It had been at least two years since Leia Organa had seen anyone deep in prayer. By the manner in which he was up on his knees with his hands turned out, Leia recognized, and realized for the first time, that Roan was a devotee of Tal'mu, an ancient religion that was common in the Uplands plains region of the continent of Thon.

"I'm interrupting," she said.

"Not at all."

"I can return later."

He set an opalescent, oval prayer stone on the floor beside his knee. "Do you pray?"

"No." Bail Organa had been, if anything, even more fervently secular than he had been pacifistic, and more devoted to overthrowing the Emperor than anything else. Still, the pose and the sentiment the pose induced were commonplace, and, wanting to bask in the experience of familiarity, Leia lowered herself softly to her knees just inside the hatch grooves. It didn't feel like the most opportune moment to address him, or even question him, but it probably wouldn't in another five timeparts either. She said, "Please accept my sincerest apology on behalf of Captain Solo. You don't need to stay locked up in here. You're free to move about the ship, although I would recommend avoiding the cockpit or any of the tech stations."

One sleek, thick eyebrow rose with interest. "Does it bite?"

"Does what bite?"

Roan grinned amiably. "The Wookiee."

"Damn it," she muttered, thinking, _they're doing it again_. When Han encouraged him to whoop it up, the Wookiee enjoyed snarling and snapping his fangs at beings he didn't like. Threepio, the protocol droid that had fallen into Leia's possession after her escape from the _Death Star_, was more often than not their favourite non-human victim. Today was worse than usual though. The last time she'd seen him breeze by, Chewie had appeared in a state of elaborate disarray with his fur was puffed out and inflated from the wind and salt air on Lunera that that it actually touched both sides of the passageways. It was enough to frighten those that knew him.

"Damn what?"

"Oh nothing. I'll talk to him," she promised, lowering her lashes slightly. Just as Han had said, partially obscured by coarse black hairs and swollen veins, the plateau between his knuckles and the base of his fingers was badly bruised and deeply scratched. Was it frivolous to patch up a few knuckles when they would soon be formless? Nonexistent? She began; "I thought you might like the medpac."

"Thank you, yes." Roan's eyelashes flickered from side to side, as though he were paying attention to something else. "He's suspicious of me, isn't he?"

"He doesn't trust anyone."

"Yet you trust him?"

_Didn't Han just ask _you_ that?_

She pretended to be absorbed with separating the gauze from the synthflesh, the regeneration bandages from the bacta ointment, the spray hypo from the anti-inflammatories. Life would be much easier if she hated Han Solo. Even an emotion less substantial than hate would do. A token sense of disinterest in the man would be enough, just so that after he left, after a month or two, someone might mention his name in passing and she would realize that she hadn't thought about him in weeks. That after a year, she would never think of him at all.

No, Han and she weren't friends… exactly. They shared a deep affection for Luke Skywalker, who like her had lost everything to the Empire. That was enough to make Leia believe occasionally that Han had lost much in his life too. And he was a damned good pilot. Trust was only a figure of speech once you analyzed it.

"He saved my life," she explained. "He was instrumental in destroying the _Death Star_ and was awarded the Medal of Alderaan. You must have learned that if you heard the rest."

"Ah." Something seemed to click inside Roan's mind, as though he was fitting the pieces to a mind-game together and he knew who Han was now. He said, "I owe him my gratitude then, for saving you and watching over you. I must say that I am surprised that the Council would hire-"

Leia shook her head. "He's not my bodyguard."

"Yet he possesses an immoderate sense of protectiveness when it comes to you. Any male would be afraid to move within ten meters."

Another vague question regarding their relationship.

Maybe Han was jealous. Was that it?

_No. Now you're the one who's delusional…_

Leia wondered what Roan would say if she admitted that she had little interest in the effects of testosterone (_was that a lie as of ten minutes ago_?), that she had no time or energy to give the natural instincts of her passage into adulthood attention, that she ate, slept and dreamed the resistance and the war. She imagined him saying something like "you haven't changed a bit," and felt unprovoked animosity rise within her chest at the presupposition. Unanticipated defensiveness struck her. "With all due respect, Roan," she blurted out, "you didn't request my presence in order to scrutinize the company I keep, did you?"

"No. Don't be silly." He snapped up the roll of regeneration bandaging and cleanly tore off a perforated strip. Then he slapped the square over the wounds on his hand. The bandaging would seal itself to living flesh; the spare fabric would tear away in about thirty seconds. He added, almost as an afterthought, "I just wondered if you were aware of how it looked."

_It doesn't look like anything_, she thought determinedly. And _Han was right_. She hated to admit it, but Roan was acting like a highborn snob. Oddly, she had no idea if he'd changed or she had. "Why didn't you ever mention your wife and son to me?"

"We kept our relationship a secret."

"From who?"

"I would have done anything for her," he continued evasively. "Didn't matter. Your father had me shipped off to Excarga as soon as he found out about her." His mouth twisted. "The irony being that my falling out of favour with him saved my life. Bail wasn't always understanding, Leia, even to those of us who thought we were close to him. He wasn't the type of man to let his heart lead him and he had no sympathy for those who followed theirs."

"I must have known her."

"Yes. She was from a Royal House, like you."

Baffled, Leia closed her eyes and searched her memory. "I don't understand."

"Why I did what I did? The last time we saw each other?"

"Yes."

"Did you think your parents were happy?" he asked. "Before your mother died?"

"I've never thought about it." She stared at the prayer stone. Breha and Bail had been two political bodies who had merged well together, who had shared ideologies, a love of public service, a love of Alderaan, and a love for her. They had been polite and kind to one another, right up until her mother's premature death. After that, her father had never expressed an interest in remarrying. "They believed in one another."

"But they were never _in_ love. Deep down, you know that." He picked up the oblong prayer stone again. "And if you recognize that, even in passing, you're less your father's daughter than you know."

"You haven't answered my question."

"Let time pass us both by without you thinking the worst of me." Roan forced the priceless stone into the center of her palm with his uninjured hand. "I should like you to keep this. It's seven generations old and all that I have left of Alderaan. It doesn't seem fitting that it go with me on this mission."

Although it was obvious that Roan had no intention of answering any more questions, she tried once more. "What happened to your hand?"

Although she watched his reaction carefully, he barely reacted to the question. He said, without breaking eye contact, "The decks were slippery."

Compared to Han's addlebrained suggestion that Roan had gone outside and thrown his unwitting assistant into the waters, the explanation was mercifully simple and believable.

"Thank you. Yes, I'll keep this for you. And I'll leave you to rest."

She exited the crew cabin and almost walked straight into Chewbacca, who promptly turned sideways so that she could pass him without inhaling a mouthful of Wookiee hair.

"_Chewie,_" she called. "Stop."

The Wookiee made an interrogative growl.

"Cut it out. There's no need to frighten our guests. Under _any_ circumstances. Got it?"

The reply, an artificial whimper, was anything but genuine.

"You do too know what I mean," she retorted, stomping down the hall. She passed Blix, who despite having his head buried in the refrigeration unit possessed an extremely sharp sense of hearing.

"Sweetheart, where's the firespice?"

"The what?" She eyed the plate piled high with their meagre fresh supplies. She debated correcting his apparent misconception that the _Falcon_ was all-you-can-eat buffet, and then opted against it. _He's Han's friend, let him deal with it…_

Straight ahead of her was the cockpit and Han Solo and more questions that she didn't feel like dealing with in her present mood. Feeling desperate for some solitude, Leia headed back up the passageway and followed the loop to the medbay. She did need to talk to him but it could wait. Alliance Command would never learn that she hadn't entrusted or briefed Han on his responsibilities before they'd reached Lunera. The one very good thing about Han was that although he tended to rub her the wrong way, he also kept his mouth shut. Anything secondary to the mission itself, unless it was of vital importance, would stay between them.

And, well, often Luke Skywalker, but she would work on that later.

The tiny medbay was the only place on the small ship that was currently empty. Guarding the prayer stone in her hand, she crawled onto the sickbed and drew the privacy curtain shut.

She settled onto her side and set the prayer stone between the pillow and the bulkhead. From a distance, the center of the stone appeared to be engraved with an ornate star-shaped pattern. Up close, the star-shaped pattern was made up of miniature script, of the names of the Tal'mu spirits and areas of Alderaan they protected.

They hadn't been much help at all, not in the end.

She should feel upset, sending Roan to a certain death, but strangely, she didn't feel anything at all. The sensation wasn't new. Alderaan was gone, blown to cosmic dust, and a frantic schedule in the months after it had happened had spared her from the worst of her grief. Now, one year later, when everything else ground to a halt she was often surprised to discover that she felt little at all. No, this feeling of nothing wasn't new at all.

Right before she drifted off to sleep, it occurred to her that the reason she couldn't feel anything was because the grief was still too huge for her to acknowledge. It was a huge and terrible thing and she was only one person, and eventually it would all start to break up.

Then, the pieces would all come crashing down around at her at once.

It felt as though she'd been asleep for five minutes when Han tore the privacy curtain aside.

He leaned over and sniffed. Behind him, Chewie howled and pointed. Then he reached over and yanked on the hem of her tunic.

"Yeah, yeah," Han said. "I smell it too."

"What do you think you're doing?" Leia stiffly bolted into a sitting position.

"Take off your shirt."

"What?"

"I'm serious." Han reclined against the outside of the bunk and reached his arm across so that she couldn't climb down. "You're covered in syrris."

"Oh." She wondered if syrris was an airborne Lunerian toxin.

Her confusion must have been apparent because he added, "It's a type of spice."

If he'd just asked her to polish his boots with her own spit, she couldn't have been more flabbergasted. "Are you out of your _blasted _mind?" she snapped.

Han Solo never wasted his time answering rhetorical questions. "Chewie smelled syrris seed extract on you earlier. He still smells it. It must be on your clothes." Beside him, the Wookiee shook his shaggy mane and howled an affirmative.

Leia managed to contain her sense of indignation for another ten seconds before blurting out, "I didn't take anything."

Han ran his thumb over a callous on the inside of his index finger. He leaned closer and lowered his voice. "It's onboard my ship and it's on you. We've already checked out Blix. He's clean." Han shrugged helplessly. "We haven't checked Roan out yet."

"I'm sure it isn't Roan."

Han acted as though he hadn't heard her. "You were in the crew cabin talking to him earlier. Did you touch anything when you were in there?"

Leia was so busy processing the fact that there'd been a deliberate order to their shipboard search that she didn't process the question. "What do you mean?"

"_Did-you-touch-anything_?"

Leia grit her teeth. "Could you be any vaguer?"

Han rolled his eyes. "You don't necessarily have to ingest it," he explained, as though the finer methods of getting high off syrris seed extract were something every well-bred princess learned at finishing school. "It can be absorbed through your skin." He scratched his cheek. "What about back on Lunera?"

"I only had water."

"Ahhh… That explains your shirt."

He was right. Roan had spilled her entire glass and it had almost seemed to be on purpose. Leia swung her legs over the side. "You have to let me handle this."

"How are you going to handle it?"

"I don't know." She shook her head in an attempt to clear her head but her mind was racing. Damn it. Had Roan been trying to drug her back on Lunera? "I'll ask him to turn over whatever he's brought on board so you can space it."

"You need to lose the shirt. I want any trace of it off our ship. "

"Of course," she said calmly. "I'll space it as soon as you get out of here."

"And…" Han set his jaw in a peculiar manner; it was tight and almost menacing. "I think you should call off the mission."

"Why? What's going on?"

"Get it first. I'll tell you after."

"Han-"

"And _don't _tell him you're calling if off. Wait for me."

Han was trying to convince Blix to vacate the main hold when he heard Leia call his name. Over the course of his life, he'd learned that there were times when people called your name in such a way that you knew, before you even saw them, that everything that could be wrong was wrong.

This was one of them.

He turned around slowly.

Leia and Roan were standing in the passageway. The left side of Leia's face had collided with something knuckled; it was decorated with swelling reddish bruises. Roan had one arm wrapped stranglehold style about her throat, and his hand, turned inward, jammed her tiny holdout blaster up against her jugular. In his free hand, Leia's blaster was aimed at them both. The pair crept into the galley as one awkwardly moving body, Leia staggering slightly. "She's half-dead," Roan hissed. "Don't move. I might slip."

Han had only held a blaster sideways with his thumb on the press-plate that way once. That occasion, he'd fired accidentally. He kept his voice steady. "What do you want?"

"Remove your blaster. Set it on the deck. Kick it over here."

Han did as he asked.

"Draw your pantlegs up above your boot."

Hoping Chewie was nearby plotting an intervention, Han pulled his pantlegs up fractionally one by one and said, "I'm carrying another piece."

"Same deal. Over here."

Han was on the verge of wondering if Roan would have him take off all his clothes when Roan shoved Leia forward and blasted off a shot. He managed to catch Leia as she fell, but not without losing his balance and tumbling backwards into the tech station chair. Leia landed on his lap. Blix fell to the deck with a scream, clutching his leg.

"Careful, Captain. You must have some restraints onboard."

"This isn't a slave ship. I don't transport prisoners. Now what the hell do you think you're trying to do?" Although his first instinct was to get Leia behind him, not sit with her as a human shield on his lap, at present he didn't trust her not to do something crazy like charge a'Penaru with her bare hands. The cords in the back of her neck were standing out and she'd gone white all over down to the roots of her hair. He caught her more tightly about the waist.

"_Am_ doing," Roan corrected. "I'm taking over your ship."

"Over my dead body." The only thing worse than the prospect of dying was the prospect of dying and leaving the _Millennium Falcon _in the hands of a piece of slime like a'Penaru._ You swore this would never happen again after the last time_. Chewie had done the same, cursing for a week straight in the name of Graaa'shad, the Kashyyyk fire-spirit whose mischief had accidentally spawned the Wookiee life-debt.

"Perhaps. Perhaps we'll all be dead. I don't care what happens to you, to be honest." Roan blasted off a second bolt of energy and the hall lighting system exploded in a shower of sparks.

Han glanced over his head, praying the source of the bitter chemical odour wafting into the main hold wasn't the fluidics system. Maybe Roan really didn't actually intend to kill anyone. The bad news was that the current situation was far too sloppy to be the Alderaanian's original plan, unless his neo-cortex was in the process of being dissolved by the _ix dbukirii _parasite. It was more like a desperate attempt to regain control of a hastily disintegrating scheme and in his experience, desperate men were often more dangerous than stone-cold killers. Reluctantly, he decided it was in the _Falcon's_ best interests that he be cooperative. "In the supply closet beside the on-ramp. I have a few pairs of binders."

"I knew you could be cooperative." Roan stepped forward and kicked Blix in the ribs. "Get up and retrieve them whatever is in there. Any funny business and Captain Solo will be vaporized."

Blix scrambled to his feet, moaning. Blood soaked his upper right thigh.

Leia, looking pale, slid from Han's lap onto the floor. "This is nonsense."

Han glowered at him. "I know you didn't pick that stuff up on Lunera."

"The syrris? I'm surprised you're aware of that," Roan said. "It's not exactly common knowledge."

"I have a few acquaintances in low places," Han replied dryly. The Empire had secretly controlled all syrris production for a few years and never permitted it to seep into the black market. Roan's syrris supply could probably be traced directly back to the Imperial Medical Research Guild. It had certain soporific qualities that made it desirable for use on large humanoids but it had never caught on as a recreational spice. "Admit it, you're working for them."

Roan braced himself against the bulkhead while he primed Leia's blaster and peered in the direction of the supply closet. "Didn't you hear the one about the Imperial informants from Alderaan?"

Han sneered. "You became an endangered species after the Empire destroyed your planet."

"Precisely."

"The Emperor wouldn't go through this much trouble for either of us. You're the one who insisted Leia come to you, a'Penaru. That whole shebang on Lunera, the Imps spooking us so we decided to take you off-planet. What was the real plan?" Han shook his head. "It had to be brilliant if they didn't pick Leia up the second we landed."

"You thought I'd bring you back to the Alliance with me." Leia touched the swollen plane of her cheek. "You were going to alert them to the location of the Fleet."

"It's not that simple," Roan replied. "The Imperials acquired _mis_information leading them to believe that the alleged target is their tiny military outpost at Obroa-skai. They have no idea that the _Furor_ and their orbital research station are the actual hit."

"What are you saying?" Leia asked.

"My Princess, I have every intention of going ahead with the real mission."

Han feigned a patience he didn't possess. "If this is some elaborate plan to show us you've reformed and you want to go blow up the Empire, I'm not going to stop you. As a matter of fact, I'll be happy to fly you all the way to Duros myself. Why don't you put the blaster away and the rest of this trip will be that much more pleasant for all of us."

"Simple logic, Captain Solo. I _wouldn't_ trust me. By the very nature of what I've admitted to you in the past few minutes I certainly don't expect _you_ to trust me. As it stands you'll likely spend most of the voyage wondering whether or not I'm hand-delivering you to the Emperor."

Leia was incredulous. "What about the last few missions?"

"Child's play, all of them. The Emperor knew about them beforehand and was prepared to make certain sacrifices in order to lay a trap for the Alliance."

"The Tynnan," Leia said. "Your assistant?"

Roan rubbed at his hand. "Oh, yes. He was a double-agent working for the Sector Moff. They thought I didn't know. We were supposed to go with you together."

Just then, Blix returned clutching two sets of binders and a thick roll of spacetape. Roan gestured with the nose of his weapon. "Tape him to his chair."

"Sorry, Han," Blix said.

"It's not your fault."

"There were others who felt as I do," Roan added effusively. "Others who were fighting against Organa and his politics." He gestured scornfully. "I knew you'd put your heart and soul into dissuading me from the mission. I didn't want to try and drug you back on Lunera. You never gave up, not even when you were a girl. You were infuriatingly inexhaustible with your passion and idealism, unorthodox as your ideas were. I remember it so well."

"You meant every word you said back there."

"I couldn't have prevented what happened to Alderaan," he said. "The war divided its own. I warned Bail what the end result of his recklessness would be and he wouldn't hear me."

Roan stepped nearer and Leia inched her body away from him toward the base of the holotable. "The Empiredestroyed Alderaan, not my father."

"_Choices_ destroyed Alderaan." Roan ordered Blix to cuff her hands to the base of the holo-table, and then ordered Blix to cuff himself. After that, he gathered up the space tape and wrapped Han's legs and arms again. When he seemed satisfied that Han wouldn't be able to free himself, his eyes shifted to the smoke-filled passageway. "Do you want to know the greatest irony of all?"

"You've become part of what you hate," she answered.

He spoke as though they were alone. "Had I seduced you that night, Alderaan might still exist. The affair, the scandal, wouldn't have been received well by your constituents-to-be." Soundlessly, Leia twisted her face toward the belly of the table and away from him. "Imagine the princess, running for senator, caught having an affair with a man twice her age during the Grand Alderaanian Gathering. Your political career would have ended in disgrace. Your opponent was simply more open-eared to our concerns."

Han longed to swing a fist at him. "What's your point, a'Penaru?" He tested his spacetape bonds, with debatable success; an incredible pain blossomed throughout his lower forearm as a tiny section of hair was yanked clean by the roots. _I didn't know that could hurt so much._ _This get-up is more effective than stun-cuffs_. "That you failed to manipulate a kid and your entire planet paid for it?"

"I have the opportunity to right a wrong."A'Penaru's face pinched before he turned for the cockpit. "I apologize that it has to be this way. You see, it had to be you on Lunera, in order to convince them to trust me."

When he left Leia craned her neck over her shoulder and glared. The shock was beginning to wear off and she was angry. "I wasn't a child," she snapped. "I don't need you standing up for me."

"Sorry princess. I haven't got anything better to do. Blix? How's the leg?"

"It hurts like hell," he groaned. "Say Solo, you didn't tell me you were running with a bunch of psychotic revolutionaries."

Onboard the ship there was nowhere for the settling smoke to go but drift throughout the ship, uncoiling like the heavy ocean fogs of the Afterworld. There was a thronging sound, or a pounding, far off, in the vicinity of the portside airlock. Relieved that Chewie was alive and conscious Han smiled to himself. "Yeah? What did you think the Alliance was all about?"

The _Falcon _dropped out of hyperspace.

Leia kept glaring. "How far from Duros are we?"

"Depends on what kind course he sets," he answered grimly. Han didn't want to think about Roan touching the _Falcon's_ controls. In fact, if a'Penaru strapped him into the co-pilot's seat and forced him to watch his flying, Han thought he just might break and tell him that the fleet was currently concealed behind the third moon of Meastrinnar in the Sern System. "Could be ten timeparts. Could be a little over a standard day."

Blix moaned again. "And to think you were worried about me bringing a little giggle-dust on board. That your Wookiee made me dump it out."

Han raised an eyebrow. "He had orders to dump you in the nearest gutter if he found anything on you."

"He's a softer touch than you are."

_No_, Han amended; Chewbacca had the added advantage of actually being able to smell honest desperation. And he wished his co-pilot were with him now. He said, "I think hell might actually be freezing over."

Time ticked by at an excruciatingly slow pace.

The truth crept up on her, increment by increment, until there was no doubt. It was mind-numbing. It pinched her lungs so that she couldn't breathe. Everything he'd said back on Lunera made sense now. At seventeen she'd been nothing more than a pawn in his plans.

Roan hadn't had a choice but to confess immediately when she inquired about the syrris. She'd never seen the blow coming. He'd caught her from behind just as she turned to leave the crew cabin.

"Your Wookiee practically made me strip my clothes off. I was starting to think he had a thing for humans," Blix was saying, in a comparatively miserable position beside her, "And he just waltzed onboard plotting to take over your ship?"

Han managed to look surprisingly insolent despite his bonds. "Well, I didn't plan this."

"Blix." Leia awkwardly managed to get her foot up by his hands. Roan had made one mistake. Although he'd frisked Blix and Han carefully, after taking her holdout blaster from her sleeve, he hadn't bothered to search her more thoroughly. Her vibroblade was still tucked safely against the knob of her anklebone. The binders were ancient. They would be easy to break.

"Honey, look. You seem like a nice enough girl but I don't know you very well," he began.

"Inside my boot," she amended, struggling to conceal her crossness. "You might be able to pick the locks."

"You're just mentioning this _now_?" Han guffawed.

"I just remembered," she lied crisply, smiling just enough that he lurched against his bonds. There was no point in explaining that she'd been giving Roan a chance to rethink his plan and free them on his own. Apparently that wasn't going to happen. Imitating Han's irritating habit of playing it cool under the worst of circumstances, Leia smiled and made a promise she had every intention of keeping. "Relax. I got us into this. I'll get us out of it."

"Terrific." Han forced an insincere smile. "I feel so much better."

"Ah… and it just so happens I have some experience with undoing these things. Lot of things actually…"

"That's very useful," Leia muttered dryly.

Blix paused with his thumb over her anklebone. "It's been a while. Not since we were locked up on Tarrasa, eh Solo?"

"That was the last time?"

"Remember Yura?

Han frowned. "She had you arrested."

"I'd forgive her in a heartbeat." Blix's eyes hazed over with nostalgia. The nostalgia subsided and was replaced was irritation. "Unfortunately, she had her designs set on you and you were more than happy to oblige. I'd almost forgotten about that."

Leia cleared her throat and Blix suddenly produced the vibroblade from her boot.

"Forgotten?" Han thrummed his fingers on the armrest in annoyance. They were the only part of his body aside from his neck that he could move. "I'm the one who convinced her to drop the charges."

"Ah yes. You never did say how you did that?"

"Never underestimate the power of good conversation."

Blix frowned and poked the tip of the vibroblade into the binder's lock. "You don't speak Tarhassian."

"I know a few words."

"_Harder_ and _faster _don't need to be translated verbatim."

Against her will, Leia felt her face redden and stared very hard at the passageway leading to the cockpit.

Han swore beneath his breath. "Could you explain to me why didn't I leave you to rot on Lunera?"

"She had the most beautiful blue eyes in five star systems and hair like spun alabaster. You listen to me, sweetie, and be careful," he said. "Han Solo never stays in one place long enough to grow roots. The second that starts to happen, off he flies in this ship of his as though he has a _Star Destroyer _on his tail." The binders clicked and fell slightly apart. "_Ooh_," he said. "That ought to do it."

Leia didn't have time to respond to the comfortless snatch of information or consider why it mattered under the circumstances. She saw a shadow creeping down the passageway and whispered, "company," while carefully keeping her hands in position so that the binders wouldn't slip down.

"Everyone comfortable?"

"Not particularly," Han exclaimed defiantly. "Personally, I think you've seen way to many old holo-films." He bucked his arms and legs against the thrice-wrapped spacetape. "Was this all necessary?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. I'm better safe than sorry. It's only for a few hours longer."

"Roan," Leia implored, begging him silently not to visually inspect her restraints _too _closely. "At least get Blix something for his leg from the medpac." Blix moaned for good effect and rested his head on the holotable seat. "It should still be in the crew cabin. He's in a lot of pain and I don't think causing unnecessary suffering was ever part of your makeup."

"Very well. I can do that."

Hurriedly, Leia shook the binders free and scrambled to her feet. She raced up the starboard passageway. By an enormous stroke of good fortune and good luck, the airlock where Chewie was trapped wasn't on the same side as the crew cabin and the open medpac. Leia hit the hatch-switch and came face to face with three hundred pounds of snarling, furious Wookiee. With a roar, he raced headfirst around the loop and four seconds later Leia heard a man's cry and a loud thump. When she caught up to him, Roan was lying unconscious on the deckplates. Chewie stood over him, shaking his fist and bellowing epithets.

"Chewie, is that you?" Han began shouting. "Just shove him in an airlock and get in here!"

"Go ahead." Leia grabbed Roan's upper arms and began dragging him backwards. He slid easily into the airlock. She stopped to check his pulse and breathing, and then sealed him inside.

When she returned to the main hold a new struggle was underway.

"_Whoa_. Be gentle."

"Honestly Han, I think fast is your best option," Blix suggested helpfully.

Han grit his teeth as though preparing for the worst. "_Fine_."

Chewbacca chuckled.

"Yeah? You think it's funny? Have you looked in the mirror lately, you mangy hairy monster?" Han gestured with his chin toward the Wookiee's massive body. "This could be you."

Chewie muttered something that Leia mentally translated as; _I'm strong enough to break a few measly strips of spacetape. _She had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

"Yeah?" Solo snapped. "How much do you want to bet?"

"Killing him isn't going to solve anything. Killing us wasn't part of his plan, remember?"

"Sorry, I forgot the noble part of his plan that had to do with blasting Blix's leg and taking my ship hostage-"

"All so that he could complete his mission." Leia gouged her nails into her palm and resisted the urge to scream. They'd been having the same argument for longer than most Imperial Senate debate periods lasted, and although she'd attempted to empathize with how Han felt after having his ship molested even her empathy had limits. "What about his representative back on Lunera?" she reminded him. "If taking us hostage had been part of his plan all along, don't you think he would have kept him around to help?"

"It's not as if we'd called off the mission yet," Han countered.

"He knew we would."

"Yeah, right." Han peered into the airlock again and smiled thinly while punching the intercom. "What's the matter a'Penaru? Just say the word if you want me to punch it. You won't be the first to go out that way."

"Han, cut it out!"

"Have any better suggestions?"

Leia rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Han glanced inside the airlock again. "What the hell…"

Roan had stripped off his shirt and was unwinding a wide metallic band from about his waist. As the last of the metal peeled away, Leia saw the bright scar that cut diagonally across the lower right quadrant of his back. It was only a few months old, if that.

The expression on Han's face shifted dramatically. He hit the intercom again. "Is that what I think it is?"

The Alderaanian jerked the band closed. "I'm going to die, sooner rather than later. Nothing either of you do will change that."

"Shit." Han ran the back of his hand over his forehead. "Just when I thought nothing else could go wrong today. Why did I actually think it? I know better than to jinx myself."

On any other occasion Leia would have sarcastically recommended he find a licensed therapist but she found that she didn't have it in her. "What is it?"

"He's got some sort of transmitter jammed in between his kidney and intestines."

"Like a tracking device?"

"If it is I doubt that makeshift corset he's wearing can block a trace indefinitely."

Leia bit her lip and sagged against the wall. She knew the old slaver's beacons had been set to self-destruct when a slave exceeded their range or they were tampered with. She sincerely doubted the Empire would have implanted a transmitter without ensuring it couldn't be removed without killing its host.

"You know what this means," Han was saying.

"Yes, I can put two and two together." She came back to reality as though waking from a bad dream. The longer Roan was onboard the _Millennium Falcon_ the more danger they were in.

"We've got to dump him as soon as possible."

"I _know_, damn it." She rubbed at her face. "Give me a second to think."

"Listen, your holiness." Han steadied himself wearily and massaged his sore forearm. "We've been flying nowhere for a day. I don't take well to having my ship shot up, having my passengers bleed all over the decks and for your information having the hair ripped out of my arms is definitely _not_ my idea of fun. I'm not in the mood for thinking. The longer he stays on the _Falcon,_ the sooner the Empire catches up with us. I don't think we need to keep waving our asses at fate. We've already had just about enough things go wrong for one day."

Leia glared at him. "Everything is not about you."

"Yeah. I get it."

"Oh, I'm sure you do," she retorted.

"He's right about one thing. Nothing we can do is going to save him. Eventually they'll find him."

Leia grit her teeth. Slowly, she said, "And he doesn't deserve to die like that."

"All right, all right," Han said, as though giving up on an old argument. "We can stick him in a smuggling compartment before we drop out of hyperspace. They're scan shielded. It should buy us some extra time while we decide what to do with him."He scratched his chin. "Unless you have a better idea."

After a long moment of silence, she said, "I don't. Are you sure he'll be all right in there?"

"For a few hours, sure."

"_Halloo_," Blix called merrily.

"Oh fuck," Han said.

"How much of the narcon did he take?"

"Probably the entire vial. Hey Chewie! I told you not to let him out of the crew cabin."

Leia banged her head against the bulkhead and added loopy Sacorrian with a spice addiction to their list of problems. At least the blaster wound to his thigh had turned out to be fairly superficial, although it would probably leave a nasty scar.

Han yanked the cover to a smuggling compartment back so hard it nearly snapped. Then he set his palm on the airlock access switch. "You ready?"

Leia withdrew her blaster from its holster. "Take a step in my direction," she warned as the access door slipped apart, "and I'll do exactly as Captain Solo threatened. We're moving you to a smuggling compartment for the time being."

"May I ask what happens to me next?"

"We haven't decided anything quite yet."

"Let me go ahead with the mission."

"I don't know," she said, cradling her blaster in her arms the way she would her own infant.

"I mean it," he said softly. "Bring me to Duros and let me go. I won't fail you again."

Leia swallowed. "Who was your wife?" she asked. "I want to know."

"Mira Tarkona," he said.

Well, that explained a lot. She gestured toward the gaping hole in the deck. "Get in and lay down." She thought, _you were right. I should hate you. _But she said,"All right."

Han set a hand on her arm. "You don't have to do this."

"Yes I do," Leia said firmly, never breaking eye contact with Roan. In her own ears her voice sounded as though it was made of durasteel. "You'd better get to the cockpit. We'll be nearing Duros soon."

"How could you?" she heard herself ask. "I looked up to you."

Roan wrapped his arms around his knees. "I know you did."

"My father depended on you."

"I let you both down."

"I felt that it was wrong, that night. I didn't know why, but now I do."She twisted her lower lip. "Alderaan would still have been destroyed, whether or not I was elected to the Senate. You didn't know it at the time but I was already working for the Alliance. As a member of the Organa family I didn't need the position within the senate for diplomatic work."

"I had no idea Bail had you so deeply involved."

"We kept that a secret from everyone."Leia set the blaster down and settled herself onto the ledge so that her legs were dangling inside the compartment. She was no longer worried that Roan would try to escape, or make any aggressive moves.

Roan bowed his head. "May I apologise for striking you, Your Highness?"

Leia pursed her lips. "Yes, you may."

Roan sounded defeated when he finally spoke again. He said, "Now, we're our own sort of Afterworlders, aren't we?"

Leia stretched her arm down into the smuggling compartment and took his hand.


	3. Chapter 3

Five hours later, Han Solo was almost in a good mood.

He had plotted a tricky three-jump route that popped them out of hyperspace near the Lijuter space station three timeparts before the Roan's supply shuttle was even scheduled to arrive. In terms of astrogational planning, it was a personal record for him, and he was feeling damned proud of it.

And Leia Organa was wearing her hair down.

He was admiring her out of the corner of his eye even though the tapcaf at the Lijuter space station was dimly lit. Grease from the adjoining space dock spotted the floors but the booths and prefab tables had been recently cleaned. Additionally, as a special attraction and of particular interest to Han, the tapcaf had a large three-sided holovid screen fixed above the central bar. Exotic passers-through could catch up on the latest smashball match, the stock of Kuati shipping supplies, and major news items from around the galaxy while eating dinner or waiting for small repairs to be completed next door. If anything of stellar interest occurred in the nearby vicinity, they would broadcast it live via the Lijuter planetary newsfeed.

Leia hunched her shoulders inward. She was saying, "We need to make sure we get our stories straight for the debriefing."

Feeling agreeable, Han said, "I'll say whatever you want me to say."

"Okay." She went ahead, suspiciously. "For starters, I feel we should leave out any mention of your friend Blix."

"That's not a problem." Blix had announced as soon as they arrived at the Lijuter space station that flying anywhere else with Han was hazardous to his health. He was roaming the decks in search of piloting work, with a fresh pair of pants and a pile of credits stuffed in his back pocket. "And?"

"As it stands, I see no reason to make Roan's sacrifice any less worthy. No one needs to know he was acting as a double agent before the war began. It will only be a source of grief to the Alderaanian survivors. As for the Alderaanian Legion itself, the Lunera faction is closed permanently and along with it, everyone involved. Roan had already arranged for that."

"I sure hope this works."

"I know him. He'll do it. He was a good man." Leia made an effort to shrug casually. "I've been trying to piece everything together. I know that Roan was married to the daughter of another of Alderaan's ruling houses and that her father served as one of the Emperor's chief advisors. They were political enemies of House Organa and devout Imperial supporters."

"Acrimonious Alderaanian family politics?"

"Didn't you ever hear..?" She let the sentence drift and shook her head. "Probably not. A decade before the Clone Wars began, my father's position as Viceroy was decided by the Jedi during an Ascendancy Contention. The bad blood between several of the Royal Houses, particularly the Organas and the Tarkanas, never dissipated, even after Alderaan established itself as a democracy and the viceroy became more of a figurehead than a position of power. Palpatine was only a Senator at the time, but when he rose to power the Tarkanas were right there with them."She lowered her voice. "When I was first elected to the Senate, there were even rumours that Rist Tarkana's daughter had briefly been Palpatine's mistress. She later became Roan's wife. My father must have heard them. He had no option but to terminate Roan's position."

Han poked his tongue into his cheek pocket. "Maybe Roan's choice of a wife wasn't that much of a coincidence."

"That's already occurred to me." She closed her eyes thoughtfully. "He told me he had a son. If there was any chance that he'd been _selected_ by her…" She let out a slow breath and opened her eyes. "I do believe he really loved her. He was incapable of seeing that his relationship with her may have been part of a greater plan, no matter how slim."

"Everyone's life is part of a greater plan these days."

She wrinkled her brow. "Are you talking about Luke?"

"You'll definitely need to come up a better story for Luke. The kid's nosy and he has a knack for sniffing out the truth."

"I don't know what to tell High Command about the Imperials on Lunera. They need to be alerted to the Imperial presence there, but for the love of the Force, I can't come up with what to say that won't lead to more questions."

"Maybe they were just looking for a poorly kept port to sell off old syrris supplies."

"That's actually quite helpful. I'll include it in my report." Leia rested her chin on her steepled hands. "Why did the syrris make you so angry?"

"Who said it made me angry?"

"I could tell."

Han glanced over at the holovid screen. It was showing recaps of a manufacturing strike down on Duros. "They experimented with it as a crowd controller, a means to get mobs of irate Wookiee slaves to calm down without permanent neural damage."

"That's why Chewie had recognized the smell," she began, eyes widening. "Oh, I wish you had told me before."

He leaned over and lifted her hair. The swelling had gone down slightly, but she still bore a purple crescent shaped bruise beneath her eye that angled out across her cheek bone. "What about this? What will we say?"

"Turbulence during our flight?"

"Nah. It looks too much like a fist."

"What do you suggest?"

He tipped his glass toward her. "You'll just have to wear your hair down more often."

She said, deadpan, "I thought it would be best for your safety if the space station employees weren't under the impression that you beat me."

Han broke into a long, hearty laugh. He liked it when she relaxed. It didn't happen often enough. "I like it."

"Cut it out."

He leaned in a little closer and tipped his glass again. She was blushing. "Buy me a real drink and we'll call it even."

"Even?" She eyed the short drink list, snapped her fingers at the server-droid and ordered two fizzed cometdusters. Within thirty seconds the bartender slapped down two bubbling containers. Han must have covered his surprise badly, because she explained; "It's not as if Alderaan was a cloistered world."

"No. From the sounds of it your life there was rather exciting."

She fiddled with the beverage's stir-stick. "Not that it's any of your business, but nothing happened between us."

"I gathered that." Han stretched an arm across the back of the booth. "He wasn't your type.""

Leia cast him an amused look and cleared her throat. "Um, you're right. I think it would be better if we kept most of the details of this mission to ourselves."

"I thought you and Luke were close."

"We are."

"But?"

"He _does _have a knack for asking all the right questions."

"Told you so."

Leia smiled sadly. "You mean a lot to him."

_Here we go_, Han thought. "It's not as if I haven't stuck around a hell of a lot longer than I intended," he muttered. "You and Luke both make it so damned impossible."

"We do?"

"You do." He nodded to himself. "You really do."

She licked her lips and ran her forefinger around the rim of her glass. "I know we don't always see eye to eye but the Alliance needs you."

"I'd come back."

"And if you're not alive…"

Han opened his mouth as if to say something, closed it. Then he said, "Yeah. I figured we'd end up here soon enough."

"Stay," she persisted stubbornly. "You can avoid any missions that take you close to Jabba's contacts. I'll speak with Rieekan-"

"No." The lastthing he wanted was special favours from within the Alliance. In fact, he wished Alliance Command would pay a lot less attention to him than they already did. "It doesn't work that way. If I wait much longer, it's not going to matter whether or not I have the credits to pay Jabba back. And I hate to break it to you, but I can't put that kind of money together working for your Alliance."

"Think about how much sense you're making."Leia countered. "You have a death-mark on your head. It already doesn't matter whether or not you have the credits to pay him back."

"Yeah well…"

Soft mumbling broke out around them. Han glanced over at the screen in time to admire recaps of an explosion beside Lijuter's second moon. From a tactical perspective, the explosion looked like an overwhelming success. Han was confident enough to bet that whatever had blown was bigger than just a star destroyer.

"I guess it worked," he said. One Imperial _Star Destroyer_ and research station gone. It was a major hit for the Alliance.

Leia looked absolutely woozy.

"Hey." Han reached over and caught her arm. "You all right?"

"Yes."

"I mean it." He eyed her worriedly.

"I was just wondering…" Leia stared at the back of his hand on her elbow. "At least Roan's death today wasn't in vain. For what would you be wasting your life?"

Her honesty caught him off guard. It hurt at a dozen different levels and that caught him off guard too. "You know," he said. "Most people I know already think running with the Rebellion is just a slow way of killing myself. I've given up trying to convince them differently."

It hadn't been a good shift for Leia. They'd lost a supply ship full of medical supplies coming back from Ottega. One of the pilots had been Alderaanian and she'd had to notify his wife of his death. The Brentaalian government had rejected an invitation to an Alliance summit; they had avowed their support for the Emperor and spoken disparagingly of the Rebellion. Brentaal was an influential trading world and their support would have been a major coup for the Alliance. Leia knew they were being strong-armed and monitored by their Sector Moff, but there was little she could do about it unless someone from within the government contacted her. Additionally, their base scouts had recently returned from Hoth and it sounded like there were going to be a million logistical issues to solve in order to set up a fully functioning base.

To top it off, Han had left a message with her aide asking her to stop by the _Falcon_.

It had been two weeks after they returned from the Lunera Mission. Since their return, Han had managed neatly to avoid her. Or, specifically, she hadn't seen him since they got back and somehow it all felt like his fault.

That and he'd ignored her last several comm-messages

Leia found him in the_ Falcon's_ main hold tinkering with a clump of metal that probably kept his ship from falling apart when she jumped to lightspeed. "I hate you," she said.

"What did I do now?"

"You told Rieekan I asked for Corellian street-fighting lessons." Apparently, the punch-line was, "_she was supposed to duck_!" Luke thought it was hilarious.

"What was wrong with it?"

"I think the next time you open your big mouth you should consider how what's coming out of it might sound to High Command."

"I thought you were worried about Roan's identity as a double-agent getting out, not your own uptight regal butt being accidentally knocked to the deck. Anyway, he believed me. He didn't ask about your eye, did he?"

Leia rolled her eyes. Actually, Rieekan seemed to believe a lot more than Corellian street-fighting practice went on. "No. But that's not the point."

"What is the point?" He reached for the multi-tool. "How did the supply run to Ottega go?"

"We lost the supply ship."

"That's bad."

"Tell me about it." Leia cleared her throat. "So what did you want?"

"I have something for you."

"You do?"

"I found this in the medbay." He dug around in his pocket and withdrew something small and opalescent. "I thought it might be important to you so I cleaned it up a bit. The writing's Alderaanian script."

"_Oh_." It wasn't what she had expected from him at all. "Thank you. Roan gave that to me. I forgot about it, I suppose, with all the… madness."

Han settled back against the holotable. "You're not the first person in the universe to have someone double-cross you."

"Does it get any easier?"

"No. But in my experience, they don't waste their time trying to set things straight."

Toward the end of the day cycle, Luke Skywalker caught up with her in the hall outside the briefing rooms. "Did you say goodbye?"

"To who?"

"Han."

"Wha…" _He didn't tell me._ She caught herself just in time. "Yes," she lied. "Of course."

"He thought you'd be upset," Luke said softly. "But you do understand, don't you?"

She nodded, mutely, suddenly understanding what Luke had meant when he said she was the type of woman who needed proof of emotion to be demonstrated with devotion to her cause. Her problem was that she took everything Han Solo did personally. She was acting as though he was leaving _her_.

_Damn it_. She wasn't all that pleased about it.

Luke was saying something about Chewbacca. She set a hand on his arm. "Luke, do you mind excusing me? I need to take care of something urgent."

By the time she reached the _Millennium Falcon_, she was so angry that she was trembling from head to toe. She strolled up the ramp and onboard then headed down the passageway to his cabin.

Han sat up, swinging his legs heavily over the edge of his bunk. "Back already."

He'd been sleeping. That was all too apparent by the state of his rumpled clothes and hair. After a moment, when it became apparent that he had no intention of coming out, she stepped inside the hatchway. "You've got some nerve," she started. "How could say nothing to me earlier?"

"Hey." He held up his hands. "What did I do now?"

"You're didn't tell me you were leaving!"

"I'm not. I'm going with the Fleet to Hoth."

"I just saw Luke and he said you were leaving."

"That was this morning. This afternoon I changed my plans. A lot can happen in a day." He rubbed at his jaw. "Is screaming at me some form of therapy? Or is it how you get off?"

"No, it's not-" Leia bit her lip, hard. _I'm not giving in to this. I'm not_.

"You just came to yell at me for not saying goodbye." Han stood and shoved his feet into his boots, grinning smugly. "I'm touched. Really."

"Don't flatter yourself."

"I can't help it."

"You never think, do you?" She squeezed her eyes shut. "I didn't have the chance to say goodbye to any of the people I cared about." _Ouch_. She hadn't expected that to come out. And she'd just blurted to Han Solo that she cared about him.

Han said, no longer gloating, not even in the slightest, "I wouldn't do that to you."

"I know." She supposed she did know that, deep down.

"At least, not without having you tell me off one more time."

"I don't do that."

"Sometimes you do."

Somehow he'd finessed his way across the room in the span of a few sentences. In the past, his cabin had been nothing more than a vacuum of negative space behind him. Now, she was all too aware of the personal artefacts and effects, of his smell, of his bed and how he'd casually tossed his pillow. "You can be a real jerk."

"Who me?"

"You know it."

"Sure."

Despite the fact that the cabin hatchway was just than wide enough for two people to pass one another, Han managed to brush up against her on his way out. Except he didn't exit, not all the way. Instead she felt his lips graze her forehead. Then he paused with his face inches from hers and his arm outstretched so that her only retreat was his cabin.

She didn't dare look up at him. She stared at his chest and thought that she longed to press her face into his neck and feel his lips against her bare skin. She wondered if her heart was pounding loud enough for him to hear it. Her woman's body was screaming about a memory that did not exist, that she had yet to possess for her own.

_Maybe it won't matter_, she thought.

And then she recalled clearly what Blix had said when he was picking her binders. _Han Solo never stays in one place long enough to grow roots. _

There was a long awkward moment that probably lasted ten seconds and felt like a thousand years. Finally she turned away. She folded her arms across her chest and stared at the floor.

"While we're keeping secrets," he said, acting as though nothing had just happened. "Chewie wants you to promise never to breathe a word of Roan dosing him with the syrris seed extract."

Leia cast him a questioning look.

"Wookiees don't react well to having their senses tampered with. It's an honour thing with them."

"Like Corellians and their ships?"

"Something like it."

"I'll never breathe a word of it." She held up her left hand. "Do I need to take the pilot's vow of honour?"

"No." Han grabbed a jacket and grinned. "Call me crazy but I trust you."


End file.
